


Tidings of Comfort and Joy

by Gothmoglordofbalrogs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Freedom Fighters, Holidays, Kidnapping, Organized Crime, Rescue, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothmoglordofbalrogs/pseuds/Gothmoglordofbalrogs
Summary: So, I guess this has turned into a collection of oneshots in the same universe. Inspired by The Only Crime is to Lose by vixleonard and Westeros' Unwanted Children by Ketch117.(2021-01-31) Story on Hiatus for an indeterminate length of time in order to focus on "What a Splendid World" as well as other projects.
Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Howland Reed, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Domeric Bolton/Sansa Stark, Myrcella Baratheon/Trystane Martell, Nymeria Sand/Original Male Character(s), Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spectre4hire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectre4hire/gifts), [Ketch117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketch117/gifts), [ayuminb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayuminb/gifts).



> A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones and all associated characters and works are the property of George R.R. Martin. I do not benefit in any way from this work, it’s free use but you guys already know this.  
> Now, this is my first work so please be nice, though constructive criticism is appreciated! Inspired by The Only Crime is To Lose by vixleonard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's Christmas could be better. Hopefully her Fiancé will rescue her.

This Christmas could be better, Sansa thought cynically. Her fiancé, Domeric Bolton was busy with “work” which she knew meant fulfilling “contracts” for the government. She even had an idea about who the Red Kings had been hired to kill and why. The Targaryen monarchy had been overthrown 15 years ago and Jon Arryn had been elected the first President of Westeros. However old Jon had died suspiciously and Yohn Royce had succeeded him as President. Under the Targaryens the mob had been allowed to flourish, Lannisters, Tyrells and Greyjoys, to say nothing of the Sunspear Cartell. 

However, unlike his predecessor, “Bronze” Yohn Royce would not allow them to go on, with their gang wars and their bribery. He would not let the the crime families get away with the corruption and murder of civil servants. Mr. Royce had given a speech a few weeks back to that effect when he had been shot by a man who, after a detailed interrogation, (one that Sansa knew that Mya Baratheon had taken part in and would not talk about) revealed that he was a Lannister man. Yohn stood up, pulled off the Tie (that now had a bullet hole) and the Jacket (which was blood stained) and shouted “SEE NOW WHAT I MEAN?!!! A BIG STICK, THAT’S WHAT WE NEED!!! A BIG STICK TO BEAT DOWN THE LITTLE BOYS WHO HIDE IN THE SHADOWS LIKE RATS!!!!!”.

  
Of Course, that was why this Christmas could be better. The Lannisters didn’t like being threatened, and The Starks and Baratheons were ardent Arryn supporters. Which was why she, along with her family, cousins, aunt and uncles, were stuck in the wine cellar of the Winterfell Mansion, with Lannister gunmen walking around. Sansa was doing everything in her power not to call attention to the fact that she was holding a magnificent ring in her pocket. She and Domeric were supposed to tell her family that they had gotten engaged at dinner, but he had been called off to work and she hadn’t gotten around to it when they got taken Hostage. Robert Baratheon was screaming, though he would have been louder had it not been for the gag. His wife and Sansa’s aunt, Lyanna Stark had tried to help him and got the stock of a submachine gun to the face for her efforts. The rest of them had their arms bound while armed men walked around the room.

  
“Take that you oafish Son of a Bitch!” shouted one of the men (Lancel? Sansa thought one of the other goons called him Lancel) as he beat Robert Baratheon with a Ball Peen hammer. Then there was suddenly a disturbing silence as the Lannister men immediately tensed up and stopped whatever they had been doing. “Why has the music stopped?” Mother hiccuped, after a man with a scorpion tattoo had stood straight up. Scorpion man then back handed her, knocking her to the floor.  
“Shut Up!!”. “Lorch, Enough!!!” the big man with the burnt face shouted, grabbing Scorpion Man by the shoulder and tossing him across the floor, out from between Mothers legs. Then there was a soft thump in the next room. “Lorch, go check that out!” the giant said. “I don’t take orders from you Clegane!” “You will if you don’t want me to snap your fucking Goddamned neck Amory Lorch!”. Lorch apparently believed Clegane would do it, as he picked up his gun and turned the corner. Then there was a shout and Lorch fell back with a knife in his eye. Through the tears that had filled her eyes and stained her cheeks, she saw the handle of the knife. A Man without Skin, arms spread to form a crossguard. “DOMERIC!!!” she cried, though it hurt her throat, so hoarse from screaming and crying was it. A Bullet ripped through the wall and Clegane fell with a shout. Domeric turned the corner and, when one young gunman rushed him, shot three rounds with the control of someone who just couldn’t be bothered by this minor distraction, so often had he done it. He then turned and caught Lancel’s arm and broke it with a sickening crack and took the hammer from him. He then tied up Lancel with the extra rope that the kidnappers brought.

  
“What are you doing here Bolton?” wheezed Clegane. “Well Sandor, would you believe I got home from work early and was going to surprise my Fiancé and her family with some drinks and side dishes for the Christmas party?, Honestly the better question is what are you doing here Clegane? How badly did Tywin Lannister have to twist your arm? You just want to go fishing in a nice lake in the middle of nowhere, which is why I’m not going to kill you.” Domeric then walked over to her and kissed her hair just above her ear. His skin felt cold, but somehow all the warmth and comfort and love that she so desperately needed seeped through the touch. It might not seem like it, but Sansa knew that Domeric was terrified. Terrified for her safety, terrified that his actions tonight would only serve to make her family hate him more and terrified that he was too late. Domeric was warm in all the ways his father was cold, but he was still a Bolton. Public displays of affection, even something like what he just did, were not easy for him. He could still be cold and professional, and was incredibly calculating when he wanted to be, but deep down he was his mother’s son and Sansa loved him for it. As soon as he cut the rope around her wrists she jumped at him, grabbing him in her arms and kissing him like she couldn’t go another minute without him, as if she would die without him being there. “Ahem,” Jon got their attention, “Domeric, could you please free us, and afterwards you two can get a room.” Domeric then shook his head as if he was trying to eject a bad memory, stood and grabbed his knife and freed the rest of her family. Mother lunged at him in much the same way she had, Sansa noticed. “Thank You Thank You Thank You!!!!” mother could barely contain her gratitude, so she didn’t bother. “When are you getting married?’’ Domeric suddenly realized that he had revealed that they were engaged and seemed to panic so Sansa took pity on him and answered for him, “This June or July, we haven’t decided which.”

  
Robert then walked up and grabbed Domeric by the Shoulder. “So Boy, where are these drinks you mentioned?” Domeric smiled and grabbed Robert’s shoulder, “Let’s go get them!” And for the first time in over an hour, everyone laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrcella can't say she works at the best establishment but is in no position to argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the words of encouragement and advice. It was very encouraging.

Myrcella Lannister was not a fan of Oberyn’s nightclub. The Water Garden was not the ideal place for a young woman to work. The clientele tended to leer and make suggestive comments, mostly in hushed tones but openly often enough to bother her. However, Myrcella knew she shouldn’t complain too much. The Martells had been nicer and more accepting then they had any reason to be, especially after what her family did to Elia and her children. The weekend she spent in Trystane’s penthouse was probably the best time she had in the three years attending Aegon Targaryen University. Then there was the pregnancy and the forced abortion followed by disownment (Tywin Lannister did not tolerate disgrace to his family). Trystane answered her call when she had no one else to turn to. He paid for her ticket to sunspear, bought her a Condo (across from his) and treated her like a friend. Oberyn Martell gave her a job at his nightclub as a bartender, which she had no experience with though Tyene had helped with that.

“Hey Tyene, where is Nym?” Myrcella needed to return a book Nymeria had let her borrow and she was on her break. “She is, uh… in the back room with Jeyne, Jennelyn and Jeyne’s boyfriend Petyr Sunderland.” Myrcella knew that the Fowler twins were far from monogamous and Nym certainly wasn’t above sleeping with multiple people, but having sex with a man was unusual for her. Tyene’s face was bright red but Myrcella had been friends with Nym for long enough that she had somehow gotten used to it. “Well, I’ll go help Obara in the back.” She turned to do so when Oberyn appeared. Oberyn Martell had let his facial hair grow out into a beard, much to Ellaria’s annoyance. However, the thing that struck her about Oberyn was he had a black eye that he hadn’t had ten minutes ago “Cella, can I speak to you in the back? Don’t worry, you are not gonna get hurt.” She followed him, though she didn’t feel comfortable doing so. Alongside his beard, Oberyn had, since she arrived, gotten a few new tattoos as well a second nipple ring. He also had a few cuts, presumably from a knife and as he led her to the back he continued to flirt with girls (and guys) in the rooms that they passed by. Myrcella started to fidget, touching her scar and pulling her hair over it and rolling it between her fingers. Then they passed through a door which had its own bouncers who were giant summer islanders, black as pitch and actual honest-to-god eunuchs. Then she passed the room on her right and heard Nymeria shouting “Petyr” over and over again between yelps, not to mention the moans of the Fowler twins and her nervousness was only made worse by embarrassment. Oberyn had a smirk at that, which sunk into a frown when they reached the door, which this time had guards (again eunuchs and again summer islanders) who opened the door. 

“Trystane!!!” Myrcella shouted. “He’s fine,” replied Oberyn, voice absolutely dripping with Sarcasm. “Whoever this is though, might not be for very long. Jalabhar have you got his name?” “It’s Trant ser. Meryn Trant” the summer islander with the scoped bolt action slung over his shoulder replied. Myrcella glanced around the room, the tables a smorgasbord of drugs, with biohazard bins in three of the corners and a changing screen in the fourth with low, long black leather couches along two of the walls. “Cella dear, he said he took care of you when you were little, said he saved you from a man named Arys Oakheart?” Trystane replied, his face purple. He had clearly taken a beating. “Saved?!! From Arys Oakheart?!!” Myrcella shouted indignantly “You killed him You Bastard!!! He was trying to get me away from Mother!!! And You Killed Him!!!” she was vibrating with anger. “Myrcella Lannister, you need to come home, your brother has died. Come home with me.” Oberyn shook his head “I’ve heard enough, Xho.” Trystane grabbed her around the shoulders and led her out the door in a hurry. They reached the door guarded by bouncers when the shot rang through the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I would like to remind you all that constructive criticism AND advice are appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashara knows her bliss won't last forever, Sansa reminisces and Robert is sick of this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and a happy New Year everybody. A little bit longer of a chapter for you guys. Just so you know, I will keep updating this semi regularly for the foreseeable future.

Bring me flesh and bring me wine  
Bring me pine logs hither  
Thou and I shall see him dine  
When we bear them thither  
Good King Wenceslaus

Ashara Dayne hated that her father dragged her family into the Sunspear Cartell. Samwell Dayne had loved Ariella Martell and when the Dayne’s lost their business and fell into bankruptcy Ariella offered her lover an out. In Ashara’s mind he saved their finances at the cost of their souls. When she was at Harrenhall for the biggest concert in living memory, being dangled in front of all the bosses like a roast at a butcher's shop she met him. Howland Reed was every bit the King that the bosses and the exiled Targaryen’s claimed to be. She had met him and the days leading to their elopement were the most bliss she had ever experienced. She went with him to the Isle of Faces where, in the Grove of the Gods, The Order of Green Men, that organization of freedom fighters or as the government of Westeros, both elected and exiled, would term them, terrorists crowned him High King of Ot’Cailin, King of the Marsh, Lord of the Cape and the Cliffs, Lord Protector of the Gods Eye and Sovereign and Independent Monarch of the High Kingdom of the Neck and Rivers and Hills. The man she loved looked beautiful with that crown of dried wood and gold, both immaculately carved with the swirls and whorls of the Crannogmen and set with the teeth of Lizard Lions and emeralds respectively. The crown contrasted with his tangled mop of red hair and his pale, white skin, which peeled and flaked when burnt, so unlike her own which became a healthy shade of sunburnt brown.  
She had always been called beautiful, yet fifteen years and three kids later Howland still called her beautiful and unlike when others called her such things she knew he meant it. Their life of bliss in their Army Camps (though they were never called that) living like the first men did in that primordial summer thousands of years ago, cooking on open fires and sleeping under the stars. But the Summer ended and the stars fell and the sun was shrouded by smoke and a winter night fell that lasted a generation. Men half dead from starvation ate each other and the corpses of those who had already fallen until, like all nights it passed. She woke up this morning and had a feeling in her gut that things were about to change, and that Westeros was going to burn.

Rickon was crying again. Then Sansa would be too if she didn’t feel like she had to be strong for the rest of her family. At night she cried in Domeric’s arms, cried for their butler Luwin, who was killed by Cleftjaw, cried for their estate manager Rodrick, decapitated in front of them, cried for her friend Jeyne, forced into prostitution, cried for her home, burnt by a man she had thought a friend.  
Now, her father was taking them somewhere they would be safe, or so he said. Sansa wasn’t certain anywhere would be safe. The Greyjoys had seized Winterfell Real Estate, forcing father to hand it over to Theon. The Lannisters were at war with the Tyrells, allied to the Greyjoys and trying to seize the territory of the Martells. The war had devolved into a four sided free for all. Lannisters against Tyrells and Martells both of which were fighting each other as well, while the Government fought all three.  
Yohn Royce’s efforts to stamp out the Gangs had been rather hampered by what the Tyrells had done. They had killed Sansa’s aunt and kidnapped Robert Arryn. He could be dead for all they knew, but Yohn Royce had mobilized all the resources he could spare to find him. Things became worse for the government when you consider that the police were crippled by the corruption that had occurred throughout the force by the mob during the reign of the Dragon dynasty. The Watch, Led by Jeor Mormont, with uncle Benjen as First Ranger, were focusing all their efforts on the war and were pretty much the only organization that was making any progress. “Rickon, dear, my son, no one will ever hurt you like that, I love you and your father and I will always protect you.” Mother cooed, but Aunt Lyanna snorted but when Robert and Ned looked back from the front of the van she stayed silent. Her parents weren’t impressed at all when Domeric picked them up at Queenscrown (saving them for a second time) in what was clearly a “company” van which meant it was a murder van. He did however put blankets over the ammo crates and closed the panels which she knew were full of knives. To distract her from her grief, she thought back to that night, five years ago. They had just started dating, second year of college, when he took her to a vista in the Lonely hills overlooking a waterfall. The headwaters of the White Knife flowed through the hills and over that cliff, forming one of the most breathtaking views she had ever seen. She sat in the back of that van, with a wool smock and a glass of wine (Domeric even then was a classy man and was not above having a couple glasses of Arbor Gold or a rich Rainwood Red with dinner, but she always considered it more him trying to appear normal for her more than anything else, if only because whenever he took a drink his eyes flashed with disgust.) looking over the cliff and down past the waterfall and over the river. “You wanted a dreamcatcher right?” She hummed an affirmative, He knew she did and the wine was starting to keep her warm. He had of course already made one for her, and it had Red and Grey strings above the net. He reached to his right and pulled a thick wooden branch he had found on the forest floor. “It’s not finished?” she whined, starting to feel tipsy. Domeric chuckled “Of course not, doing anything well takes time. Braavos wasn’t built in a day.” He gave her a light peck on the cheek and brushed her hair out of her face, before reaching past her and grabbing a knife from the panel beside her. He carved that branch into a wolf as the sun set, and hung the dreamcatcher from it.  
“Here we are. Everybody out of the van, we’re going on a hike.” Father said that in the most normal voice, as if they really were just on a road trip. They got out, and hiked down through the marsh. After quite a while, There was a shout “HANDS UP!!!” and they all complied. “Who are you?” Her father answered calmly and for the first time in about a week, he looked like Eddard Stark. “Eddard of House Stark and his family, requesting sanctuary from your king and my friend Howland Reed.”

Robert was not a happy stag. He had been on the run for days on foot, then they stole a cab, which Ned had then crashed into a tree, then they got rescued by Sansa’s fiancé who, in Robert’s expert opinion was a Motherfucking badass with a heart of gold plated steel which made him exactly the man the Starks needed in the family, at least if things kept going the way they are. Then they had driven all the way to the neck while trying to ignore the tension between Ned and his future son in law while at the same time trying not to have a panic attack over where Robb was with Mya, Jon, Steffon and Edric. At least he didn’t have to worry about Bella, she was with Stannis and Shireen, which meant she was fine. Now however, their hands had been tied with rope as they were led down a snaking path and into a clearing before a Gigantic Weirwood tree.  
“Your Grace, While on Patrol we found these trespassers, claiming to be Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon and their families, should we…”  
“Ned, is that you?” The leader bellowed. Robert looked up and saw a short man with bright red hair and pale skin wearing an honest-to-god crown and holding a trident on a throne carved in the weirwood. Next to him sat a woman who could only be Ashara Dayne, with bright purple eyes and a wood and silver tiara with amethysts embedded in it and feathers and beads woven into her raven hair. So that is where the amethysts that were stolen from Casterly Rock ended up. Robert chuckled under his breath.  
“Yes it is, King Howland. I, my sister Lyanna, her husband Robert, My wife Catelyn and my sons, Bran and Rickon and daughter Sansa and her, er… partner Domeric.”  
The King of the Crannogmen leapt from his Throne, “Bread, Salt, Beer and Meat! We shall see our friends dine! Now Ned, I thought you had died, We have much to discuss.”


End file.
